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1920 



IHE KNEELING CAMEL 

And Other Poems 
By 

ANNA TEMPLE 



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COFmiGUT DEPOSm 



THE 
KNEELING CAMEL 

and Other Poems 



By 
Anna Temple 




NEW YORK 
MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY 

1920 









Copyright, 1920, by 
MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY 



i -7 1920 



©CLA565866 



o 



DEDICATION 

I would this little book of verse might be 
My stained-glass window, given in memory 

Of my beloved, who are gone — ^not dead — 

But simply into higher pastures led. 
And should one look to see 
What maimer of design my glass may be. 

Let it be said 
The white-robed saints are here — oft vexed and tried- 
And the Good Shepherd standing at their side. 



Acknowledgment and thanks are due to the editors 
of the following papers for their kindly permission 
to re-print these poems. The New York Observer and 
The Evangelist — now combined in The Christian Work; 
Faith and Works, a small paper published formerly in 
the interest of the Philadelphia Y. W. C. A.; Lights 
and Shadows, published formerly in the interests of 
the Philadelphia Home for Incurables; The YoutKs 
Companion; Wide Awake; The Outlook; The Pilgrim 
Visitor; The Advocate and Guardian, published in the 
interests of The Home for the Friendless, New York; 
and The Sunday School Times, my long-time friend 

A. T. 



CONTENTS 

FAQE 

The Kneeling Camel 1 

Broken Things 3 

Faith's Song 5 

"As AN Eagle" 6 

My Right-Hand Load 8 

His Will 9 

On His Hands 11 

Duty 13 

Thy Given Task 14 

Two Faces 15 

God's Promises 16 

My Master's Order 17 

"Eternal, Unchangeable" 18 

In Sorrow's Hour 19 

The Making of the Flute 20 

An Evening Revery 22 

The Chimes 23 

Unused Power 25 

What God Forgets 26 

Coming Home 27 

"In Jeopardy" 28 

The Better Song 29 

"Until He Find" 30 

I Never Knew 31 

The Sea's Lament 32 

A Parable 34 

The Children's Fortress 35 

ix. 



X CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A Snow Legend 36 

Oh, Oh, To Be A Butterfly 38 

How THE Pines Grow 39 

A Winter's Thought 41 

A Legend of the Evergreens 42 

May's Legacy 44 

Christmas Hymn 46 

A Christmas Carol 48 

Didst Thou Consider? 50 

The Divine Man 51 

At His Gates 52 

Grief Conquered 54 

A Monday Prayer 55 

Hast Thou a Sorrow? 5Q 

That Midnight Friend 57 

The Tide 59 

The Banner-Bearer 60 

If I Should Write 61 

The Place Prepared 63 

My Garden Must Be Beautiful .... 64 

The Searcher 65 

Achievement 66 



THE KNEELING CAMEL 
AND OTHER POEMS 



The Kneeling Camel. 

The camel at the close of day 
Kneels down upon the sandy plain 

To have his burden lifted off, 
And rest to gain. 

My soul, thou too shouldst to thy knees 
When daylight draweth to a close, 

And let thy Master lift thy load. 
And grant repose. 

Else how canst thou tomorrow meet, 
With all tomorrow's work to do. 

If thou thy burden all the night 
Dost carry through? 

The camel kneels at break of day 
To have his guide replace his load; 

Then rises up anew to take 
The desert road. 

[1] 



So thou shouldst kneel at morning's dawn, 
That God may give the daily care; 

Assured that He no load too great 
Will make thee bear. 



[21 



Broken Things. 

But broken pitchers bearing light. 
Yet Gideon's host triumphant sang; 

And through the stillness of the camp 
Their shouts of victory rang. 

A shipwreck, and but broken spars 
All tossed upon an angry main; 

Yet one of them enabled Paul 
Melita's coast to gain. 

A broken Body on a cross, 

A wound, whence blood and water flow; 
And every fettered child of sin 

Might full deliv'rance know. 

And in that feast of memory 

The broken bread, the poured-out wine, 
In silent manner speak to us 

About the love divine. 
[3] 



How dear to God are broken things, 
What power in His hand they gain; 

Then trust Him with your broken hopes. 
And bodies racked with pain. 



[4] 



Faith^s Song. 

Thus come our doubts, like some great bank 
at sea 
Of fog through which we cannot penetrate, 
Nor see the dangers that around us wait; 
'Tis then that Faith must sing, "He leadeth 
me. 

And she has sung it; loud, and full, and clear 
Her voice went outwards o'er the billow's 

foam ; 
And those upon the vessel bound for home 

Rejoiced to hear her sing "Our God is near." 

O Faith, stay by me till I reach the shore. 
Till in the realms of day this darksome night 
Shall be a thing that's past, and faith be 
sight ; 
Till I shall need thy guiding hand no more. 

[5] 



"As An Eagle." 

The eagle, o'er her young presiding, 

Stirs up their quiet rest; 
Breaks in upon their sure confiding 

Within their rock-built nest; 
And taking them upon her wings, 
She bears aloft those vexed things. 

One moment on her pinions keeping 

The eaglets weak and small; 
The next, she turns, and downward sweeping 

Though helpless leaves them all 
To battle, and to try their wings. 
And make themselves not helpless things. 

She leaves them, but she still is eyeing 
Their progress, weak and slow; 

And when one falters in its flying. 
The mother-bird doth know; 

[6] 



And quickly on her outstretched wings 
She takes again those tired things. 

O soul, the Lord thy faith is trying 
When He stirs up thy rest; 

And He would ever have thee flying 
Toward what is good and best: 

If thou shouldst falter His strong wing 

Is underneath thee, faithless thing. 
(Dent, 32:11, 12) 



[71 



My Right-Hand Load. 

In my right hand I clasp tomorrow's grief, 

And in my left is held the present woe; 
No other hand have I wherewith to grasp 

The needed strength, and wearily I go 
Weighed down by these two loads, and aching 
sore. 

And sore dismayed because no help I see; 
And sore perplexed, because my greater load 

Doth make me lean and walk unevenly. 

I lean toward my right — tomorrow's load 

Is so much greater than the present grief; 
But lo, at last for my right hand I find 

A wondrous strength, a marvelous relief. 
God takes this right-hand load, I need not hold 

Tomorrow's woe, and now my hand is free 
To grasp the strength I need so much today, — 

I grasp it, Jesus, when I cling to Thee. 

(Isaiah 41:13) 

[8] 



His Will. 

How shall I know His will concerning me? 

Shall I look forward to some future lot 
And count the coming days 

(Which may be not), 
As though some love should fill 
Those days with revelations of His will? 

How shall I know His will concerning me? 

Shall I look backward to the distant years, 
And try to understand, 

Through blinding tears, 
With what those days were filled? 
'Twould be to know I hindered all He willed. 

How shall I know His will concerning me? 

I will look steadfastly at present days ; 
If grieving I will trust, 

[9] 



If joyous praise: 
Each day I know He fills 
With work for Him: what is is what He 
wills. 



[10] 



On His Hands. 

Two marks are graven on His hands 
Which time shall ne'er efface ; 

One is myself, my sinful self, 
And one the sign of grace. 

The nail-marks still are on His hands, 
The marks of Calv'ry's tree; 

It was my sin that put them there, 
It was my sin — and me. 

My name is written on His hands, 
My name — who put it there 

Along with that dark signature 
That I have made Him wear? 

He wrote my name upon His hands, 
And thus the seal was set 

To all that covenant of love 
Which neither can forget. 

[11] 



I fix my gaze upon His hands, 

And think of Calvary; 
He sees what He has written there, 

And then remembers me. 

(Isaiah 49:16) 



[121 



Duty. 

I held a flower in my hand ; 

'Twas night, I could not see ; 
And judging from the perfume thought 

The flower must ugly be. 
But when the morning came and light 

With its transforming power, 
I did forget all else beside 

The beauty of the flower. 

God placed a duty in my hand: 

Before mine eyes could see 
Its rightful form that duty seemed 

A bitter thing to me. 
The Sun of Glory rose and shone; 

Then duty I forgot, 
And knew with what a privilege 

The Lord had blessed my lot. 
[13] 



Thy Given Task. 

The present moment is divinely sent, 

The present duty is Thy Master's will; 
Oh, thou who longest for some noble work. 

Do thou this hour thy given task fulfil ; 
And thou shalt find, though small at first it 

seemed, 
It is the work of which thou oft hast 
dreamed. 

Oh, think not, if thou art not called to work 
In mission fields of some far-distant clime. 

That thine is no grand mission. Every deed 
That comes to thee in God's allotted time 

Is just the greatest deed that thine could be. 
Since God's high will appointed it for 
thee. 

[14] 



Two Faces. 

I saw two faces ; both were crowned 

With whitened hair; 
And one unpleasing was to see, 

And one was fair. 

I questioned Wisdom of the cause, 

And she repUed: 
That sin within one heart had lived, 

In one had died. 



[15] 



God's Promises. 

As some dear friend, who knew thy straitened 
case. 

By letter or by hand should send to thee 
A gift for that amount that met thy need. 

And raised thee out of want and poverty; 
So God has sent thee gracious promises, 

Which thou before His throne in faith canst 
plead 
When pressed by any ill or sore distress, 

And find sufficient for thine utmost need. 

Oh, foolish weii; thou, then, through any doubt 
To linger still in want and poverty, 

When but to claim some promise as thine own 
Would bring such boundless wealth and joy 
to thee. 

[16] 



My Master's Order. 

*'Go work and pray"; 
That was His order yesterday; 
And should I dare to disobey? 

Now His command 
Is wholly changed ; He bids me stand 
Aside, and watch His working hand. 

Today His will 
Is spoken in these words, "Lie still"; 
And shall I not His wish fulfil? 

"Lie still — and pray"; 
That is my Lord's command today: 
And I will do His work His way. 



[17] 



•'Eternal, Unchangeable." 

God liveth, 
All is well; 
God dieth never. 
Then over death and hell 
I triumph ever. 

God seeth 
Night and day ; 
God sleepeth never. 
Then all my pilgrim way 
God watcheth ever. 

God loveth. 

I can prove 
God loveth ever. 
Then nothing from His love 
My soul shall sever. 

[18] 



In Sorrow's Hour. 

Men faithless slept 
When Jesus wept 

In agony. 
Arid let His cry 
Unheard go by 

In His Gethsemane. 

But when men weep 
God does not sleep ; 

He stoops to see 
Each falling tear, 
Each sigh to hear 

In their Gethsemane. 



[19] 



The Making of the Flute. 

A branch lay broken on the grass 

While winds played o'er it and around ; 

And birds sang sweetly in the trees, 
And crickets chirped upon the ground: 

All voiceles lay the dying wood 
Though bathed in sound. 

But one drew near who saw it lie, 
Storm-stricken from the parent tree; 

With fibres torn and edges rough, 
And leaves all hanging listlessly; 

He lifted it, exclaiming — "This 
My flute shall be." 

Then down he sat beneath the trees. 
And trimmed with knife the edges 
rough ; 

[20] 



And marked and measured width and 
length, 

The straggling fibres cutting off: 
Until his eye in wisdom saw 

It was enough. 

And all day long he pierced and cut, 
And polished while the hot sun shone; 

But when it sank beneath the hills, 
And all his work at last was done, 

He breathed an air through his new flute 
Of sweetest tone. 

Like silent wood, O tuneless soul, 
O fallen, helpless, voiceless thing. 

You need the artist touch of One 
Who sweetest melody can bring 

From tuneless souls, although He pierce 
To make you sing. 



[21] 



An Evening Revery. 

Bare twigs, brown earth, and far off pink- 
tinged sky. 
And faintest blue, of evening's shaded dye, — 
Oh, what a picture for an artist's eye. 

The leafless twigs point heavenward, and 

they 
Do seem to touch the glow of closing day, — 
What a fine subject for a poet's lay. 

The dead, brown earth is bathed in sunset's 

glow, 
As grace doth cover human sin and woe, — 
What a great truth for every man to know. 



[22] 



The Chimes. 

The quarter hour chimes, like some young life 
Whose tender melody 

Has just begun; 

Not till the hour is done 
Can we know fully what the tune shall be. 

The half-hour sounds, an added chord is 
played; 
Yet the melodious tone. 
Though rich and sweet, 
Is still all incomplete, — 
Like infancy when but to boyhood grown. 

Three chimes play next, the time is wearing on. 
The tune is much more clear: 
I now can see 

What the last note shall be. 
As manhood ripe in goodness doth appear. 

[23] 



Four chimes, the tune is done. Soft, sweet, 
and low 
Sounds forth the final chord. 
I think I see 
An old man patiently 
Await the coming summons of his Lord. 

The hour strikes; to an eternal rest 
The summons comes at last. 

And every chime 

Has sounded in its time, 
And age itself f orevermore is past. 



[24] 



Unused Power. 

When Christ to His disciples gave the power 
To heal the sick, and cleanse all leprous men, 
And bring the dead once more to life again, 

And cast the devils forth, that very hour 

Was Judas with them; unto him was given 
As well as unto Peter or to John, 
That grace which should its victories have 
won 

In every time of need, through help of heaven. 

How came it, then, that he to whom such 
strength 
Was granted that he surely might have cast 
The devil from himself, was led at last 

To follow Satan to so great a length? 

It must be that in dark temptation's hour 

He simply left unused God-given power. 

(Matt. 10:1-5) 

[25] 



WTiat God Forgets. 

In ignorance I thought, 

In silly fear, and foolishness, and dread, — 
"God doth remember all the sins I wrought, 
And doth forget how needy is my lot." 
But lo, instead, , 
When I His message read 
I found it was my need on which He thought. 
My sins that He, because of Christ, forgot. 



[26] 



Coming Home. 

My ship is coming home; beside the breakers 

That roll incessantly, 
I catch the flutter in the evening twilight 

Of sails across the sea. 

And as I watch them drawing near and nearer, 
With onward course and straight, 

I wonder if the angels with such pleasure 
For souls immortal wait. 

Oh, do they stand there at the port of heaven 

In high expectancy. 
Ready to hail each home-returning vessel 

That comes across life's sea? 

What pleasure, then, in sunset's glow and 
beauty 
With drooping sails to come. 
And hear those angels singing in the harbor 
"Welcome, oh, welcome home." 

[27] 



"In Jeopardy/* 

Through all the storm that swept the sky, 

And lashed the fretted sea, 
And caused the little ship to ride 

"In jeopardy," 
The Master slept; nor roar of winds, 

Nor anger of the deep. 
Nor rocking of the boat disturbed 

His peaceful sleep. 

But when in terror and distress 

His children to Him came, 
And in their trouble called for help 

Upon His name, 
He woke whom storms had wakened not; 

Above the raging sea 
He heard the voice of them that cried 
"In jeopardy." 

(Luke 8:22-24) 

[28] 



The Better Song. 

angels, sing your glorious songs of praise, 
Ye spirits blessed, with never taint of sin; 

1 cannot voice the anthems that ye raise; 

My lips are dumb, for when I would begin 
To whisper forth some worthy melody, 
I falter, thinking of the sin in me. 

O angels, silence; cease your rapturous song! 

Ye cannot sing as now my soul can smg. 
Your lips must falter, dumb must be your 
tongue, 
When at the footstool of our glorious King 
My ransomed soul doth tell of sins forgiven, 
And makes her song of praise fill earth and 
heaven. 



[29] 



"Until He Find." 

O tender shepherd, cHmbing rugged moun- 
tains, 
And wading waters deep. 
How long wouldst thou be willing to go home- 
less 
To find a straying sheep? 

"I count no time," the shepherd gently an- 
swered, 
"As thou dost count and bind 
The days in weeks, the weeks in months; my 
counting 
Is just — until I find. 

"And that would be the limit of my journey. 

I'd cross the waters deep. 
And climb the hillsides with unfailing patience. 

Until I found my sheep." 
(Luke 15: 4) 

[30] 



I Never Knew. 

I never knew how very far from home 
My wandering feet had strayed, 
Until I saw 

The wounds my Shepherd bore, — 
Wounds which His thorny search for 
me had made. 

I never knew within that sheltered home 
How good it was to be. 
Till, tired out 

With wandering and doubt, 
Back to His fold my Shepherd carried 
me. 



[31] 



The Sea's Lament. 

"Why mournest thou all day, thou mighty 
deep?" 
I said inquiringly. 
The waves drew back in wonder and sur- 
prise, 
In sheer amazement did they fall and rise. 
To think that such as I 
Should dare to ask the sorrow of the sea. 

And so I stood alone upon the beach 
With question unreplied. 
Until it seemed in friendliness for me 
Those waves came forth again from out the 
sea; 
And rolling slowly in, 
Crept as repentant to my very side. 
[32] 



And there they breathed their sorrow to mine 
ear 
Upon that lonely shore : 
They told me how their billows were to be 
As things forgotten in eternity, — 

While I should ever live, 
That great and restless deep should be "no 



more/' 



[33] 



A Parable. 

Within the palace of a king 

A royal feast was spread, 
And duke and lord sat round the board, 

The sovereign at its head; 
And sumptuous fare was lavished there. 

Choice wine and whitest bread. 

How came the wine so choice and pure. 
How came the bread so white? 

How came they there a royal fare 
For king and lord and knight? 

Because the hand that tilled the land 
His work had done aright. 

'Tis small things need the greatest care 

The little seed we sow, 
The young vines small need watching all. 

That they may hardy grow ; 
That wine and bread on tables spread 

Perfected work may show. 
[34] 



The Children's Fortress. 

The tide has turned, the tide is coming in, 
The children's fortress down upon the beach 

Must be abandoned when the crested waves 
Its sandy walls shall reach. 

All morning long they romped in ecstasy; 

O cruel waves, the children's play to spoil; 
O faithful waves, that warn us not to build 

Where tides may mock our toil. 



[35] 



A Snow Legend. 

O ye clouds, that float above me, 

ye winds, that round me blow, 
Can ye tell me from what quarter 

Comes the driving snow? 

"From the north, inquiring maiden, 
Where an old man, stooping low 
By his grate, mourns o'er the ashes," 
Said the winds that blow. 

"For the snow-flakes are the ashes 
Of the summer's glow. 

"See him as he stoops and shivers, 

Rubs his wrinkled hands and sighs — 

*Just one ember left a-glowing, 

And that ember dies ; 
Come back, summer, come and warm me ; 

1 am cold,' he cries. 

[36] 



''Then he catches up the bellows, 
Tries to make the embers glow; 

Only sets the ashes whirling, 
Dancing high and low: 

And the ashes of the summer 
Are the flakes of snow." 



[37] 



Oh, Ohj To Be a Butterfly. 

"Oh, oh, to be a butterfly," 

I hear you sigh, 

And I reply 
You would not sing 
Of such a thing 
If you were always on the wing. 

Sometimes to be a butterfly 

And soar on high 

I'll not deny 
Is very good. 
When field and wood 
Are bright with flowers that offer food. 

But oh, to be a butterfly 

When storms are nigh. 

And flowers die ! 
Then I would be 
A maid like thee. 

With some dear home to shelter me. 
[38]. 



How the Pines Grow. 

For many and many a day 
The pines heard the strong wind sighing, 
Moaning and crying — 
"Over the hills and away 

Is a place I am knowing 

Where nothing is growing." 

'No grass?" cried the pines in distress, 
"No grand forest trees?" 
"None of these," 
Sobbed the wind; "barrenness 
Rules the place I am knowing. 
For nothing is growing." 

'Take our seed," said the pines in dismay, 
"Quick, let them be planted 
Where most they are wanted — 
Over the hills and away 
[39] 



In that land thou art knowing 
Where nothing is growing." 

Then fast went the seed-ladened breeze 

To that desolate land, 

And there in the sand 
It planted the gift of the trees. 

And now for that sowing 

Sweet pine groves are growing. 



[40] 



A Winter's Thought. 

This snow imprisons me ; my foolish feet 

Refuse to wander on these slippery ways, 

And I am prone to sigh for smnmer days : 

But when I hear the children on our street 

Shouting with laughter in their winter's 

glee, 
My soul is glad that not alone for me 
Were all things made, else might the chil- 
dren lose 
Half their year's joy if it were mine to 
choose. 



[41] 



A Legend of the Evergreens. 

The fir and the spruce and the pine 
And the wind held speech together; 

And they talked of the loss that would come 
to man 
With the coming of winter weather: 

And the wind bemoaned that the forest trees 

Were giving their robes to each beggar breeze. 

"It will never do," said the pine, 

And the fir repeated "never." 
"For the heart of man would grow dismayed 

If winter storms should ever 
Be robbing the earth of all her green, 
And let bare branches alone be seen." 

Then far on the hillside bleak 

These trees made pledge together, — 

[42] 



That notwithstanding the storms and cold 

Of winter's icy weather, 
They would wave their green over field and 

fen, 
For the beauty of earth and the joy of men. 



[43] 



May's Legacy. 

Oh, April was a sorry child, 

And wept so frequently, 
I could but ask her what the cause 

Of all her grief might be. 

"I've buds about me here," she said, 

"Just coming into bloom, 
And giving out for love of me 
A delicate perfume. 

"I've waked the trees, and roused the grass, 
And taught all things to grow; 
Unbound the brook that winter froze. 
And made it laughing flow. 

"And now word comes that I must leave. 
And who will care for these? 
Oh, who will make my buds to bloom. 
And robe my waiting trees?" 
[44] 



I said, "Sweet May will do all this 
When you have gone away." 

Then April broke into a smile, 
And left her buds to May. 



f45l 



Christmas Hymn. 

He has come, our Saviour Jesus; 

'Tis His birthday we proclaim. 
Hark, oh hark, angelic voices 

Sing the praises of His name. 
He has come, oh wondrous story, 

To be born in Bethlehem: 
Come to be the children's Saviour, 

Come to live and die for them. 

He has come from scenes of glory, 

From the realms of endless day. 
Where the angels bow adoring 

As they chant the heavenly lay. 
He has come, His goodness bringing 

From yon pure and holy place 
Richest blessings to the children — 

Wondrous love and matchless grace. 
[46] 



He has come, but on His birthday 

Shall He gifts of mercy bring, 
And the children whom He blesses 

Offer nothing to their King? 
'Tis His birthday; we will give Him 

For His presents hearts of love ; 
All our love and all our service 

Will we give our King above. 



[47] 



A Christmas Carol 

All ye who sit at meagre boards. 

With little fare on Christmas morn, 
Ye have a cause for joy of heart. 
For in God's bounties ye have part 
If ye believe in Christ the Lord 
Who was today a Saviour born. 

All ye who sorrow and are sad 

Because of death on Christmas morn. 
Ye have a cause for joy of heart. 
In God's re-unions ye have part 
If ye believe on Christ the Lord 
Who was today a Saviour born. 

All ye enriched with earthly store. 

Who joy for joy on Christmas morn. 
Ye should have added joy of heart 
Since in God's blessings ye have part 
[48] 



If ye believe in Christ the Lord 
Who was today a Saviour born. 

Not all are rich, not all are poor, 

Not all have sorrow Christmas morn; 
But all have cause for joy of heart, 
For in God's mercies all have part 
Who do believe that Christ the Lord 
Was for their sin a Saviour born. 



[49] 



Didst Thou Consider? 

Lord, when Thou didst choose my path 

for me. 
Didst Thou consider all the care and strife 
That would surround my way — how daily 
life 
Would be a burden with perplexity? 
And didst Thou know by nature I would be 
A timid soul, and much inclined to fear? 

Lord, when Thou didst set my portion 

here 
Did all these homely matters come to Thee? 

"Yea, ere I chose the limit for thy feet 

1 thought on all the sorrow and the strife, 
And the perplexities of daily life; 

1 pondered well the troubles thou must meet. 
And then 1 said. With promise of My power 
This child can meet such things at any hour." 

[50] 



The Divine Man. 

In a little ship at night 

Gliding o'er the sea, 
Christ as man lay down and slept, 

Worn as man may be. 

But when sudden tempest rose. 

Causing wild alarm, 
Christ as God commanded "Peace,' 

And the sea grew calm. 

Christ beside the silent tomb 
Wept as man doth weep ; 

Then as only God can do, 
Waked the dead from sleep. 

As a man, a man condemned, 

Christ in sorrow dies; 
Then as God to dying thief 

Opens Paradise. 
[51] 



At His Gates. 

God of the greening field and budding tree, 
Who doth delight in making earth so fair, 

Grant in my soul Thy spring-like touch may 
be, 
Awakening all Thy heavenly beauties there. 

God of luxuriant growth and gladsome days, 
When Thou to plenty hast approval set, 

Grant that my soul, enriched by Thee always, 
May know whence bounty comes, may not 
forget. 

God of the falling leaf and fading flower, 
Whose garnered grain foretells a spring to 
be. 
Grant that my soul, when facing death's sad 
hour, 
May trust Thy promise for eternity. 

[52] 



God of the winter storms, fierce winds and 
sleet, 
When desolations sweep across my soul, 
Grant that my faith, a-tremble at Thy feet. 
May catch some grander view of Thy con- 
trol. 



[53] 



Grief Conquered. 

I will forestall the grief that years may bring. 
Within my room alone, on bended knee, 
I will beseech that when grief comes to me 

God's comforts come as well to heal the sting. 

Come joys divine when earthly joys take wing: 
And when my loved ones die to me be given 
Some clearer evidence of God's dear heaven. 

Filling my soul with peace and comforting. 

So grief shall find me armed, and as a foe 
Yields to a warrior stronger far than he, 
Grief shall present a flag of truce to me. 

And own itself my vassal, bending low. 

While I the victor shall have gained from grief 

A deeper knowledge of divine relief. 



[54] 



A Monday Prayer. 

Back to the shop, the factory, and the mill 
Thy workers go, O Lord; and it may be 
That some have sorrows pressing heavily. 

And some are burdened with foreboding ill ; 

And some, unmindful of Thy holy will, 
Gained" not the rest provided yesterday. 
And into sin some feet have gone astray. 

And some hold labor in derision still. 

Grant, therefore. Lord, that as we buyers go 
Through factory or store or busy street. 
With thoughtful words these laborers we 
may greet, — 
Mindful of grace for sin, of balm for woe: 
Helping in kindness sluggard souls to see 
The worth of labor and the dignity. 

[55] 



Hast Thou a Sorrow? 

"Hast thou a sorrow?" said the tempter bold, 

"It shows thy Father hath forgotten thee. 
Renounce thy faith, thy trust in Him with- 
hold,— 
Could one who loves afflict so grievously?" 

"Hast thou a sorrow?" faith speaks to my soul, 
"It shows thy Father seeks thy betterment; 
Ask Him to so direct it and control, 

That thou shalt gain the blessing with it 
sent." 



[56] 



That Midnight Friend. 

What unpropitious hour for suppliant to 
wend 

His way through silent streets to find a mid- 
night friend. 

What obstacles to face! The friend he seeks 

at rest. 
His own improvidence, and that unlooked-for 

guest. 

How things against him seem; yet need doth 

urge his feet 
To hasten for a loan of bread along that lonely 

street. 

What glad surprise, what cheer, what bounty 

lies ahead! 
That friend awakes and doth bestow all that he 

needs of bread. 

[57] 



O soul, take courage, thou no hindrance 
worse shalt face 

Than faced this man when he set out to im- 
portune for grace. 

The very things that seemed against his prayer 

to be 
They added force to his request, and value to 
his plea. 

Then press thy need, and if in darkest hour 

thou wend 
Thy way to Him thou wilt indeed find Christ 

thy Midnight Friend. 
(Luke 11:5-8) 



[58] 



The Tide. 

God's ships of treasure sail upon the sea 
Of boundless love, of mercy infinite; 

To change their course, retard their onward 
way 
Nor wind nor wave hath might. 

Prayer is the ti3e for which those vessels 
wait 

Ere they can come to port; and if it be 
The tide is low, then how canst thou expect 

The treasure ships to see? 



[59] 



The Banner-Bearer. 

From bloody field, when day's long fight is 

done, 
And bitter strife a glorious peace hath won. 
There comes a soldier at the set of sun. 

What marks of conflict ! All the bright array 
Wherewith he girt himself at start of day 
Now tattered is, and telleth of the fray. 

And he himself is weak and bruised and worn. 
Yet in his hands, that cruel shots have torn. 
The banner of his regiment is borne. 

So do I think that I shall reach the throne, 
With all the grace of early deckings gone, — 
The armor broken that might else have shone. 

But to my Captain on that last great day, 
God grant that it may be my joy to say — 
"Lord, I have kept the faith through all the 
fray." 

(2 Tim. 4:7) 

[60] 



If I Should Write. 

If I should simply write the one word "God" 
To those who in the Home* lie sick and sore; 
If I should write but that and nothing more, 

Yet would they tell through all the rooms 
abroad 

What a sweet letter, what a cheering word 
My pen had written; so devout are they — 
Those pilgrims who have fallen by the way. 

Yet lie with gaze turned up to His abode. 

But when I add "God loves," with joy how 
great 
They read the letter, passing it along 
From room to room till other hearts are 
strong 
With confidence in Him on Whom they wait. 

[61] 



And when I add the whole — "God loveth 

you"— 

Their hearts rejoice as though the theme 
were new. 

* The Philadelphia Home for Incurables. 



[62] 



The Place Prepared. 

When evening falls, and by the mother led 
The little child reluctant leaves his play, 
Not downward doth he take his sleepy way. 

Nor in the outer darkness find his bed. 

But step by step the little weary feet 

Are guided upward till they reach the room 
Whence loving thought has banished all the 
gloom. 

And loving care hath made the chamber sweet. 

So when our Father calls us to our rest, 
It is not downward into shades of night. 
But upward, step by step toward the light; 
Until at last our faltering feet shall come 
Into that upper chamber of our home. 
Where is a "place prepared" for us and blest. 

(John 14:2) 

[63] 



My Garden Must Be Beautiful. 

My garden must be beautiful; 

For when the shadows play 
In length'ning shapes along the wall, 

And comes the cool of day, 
Perchance my Lord might come to see 
The place where roses bloom for me. 

And if He asked to come within 

This house of mine to rest. 
How fair and sweet the rooms should be 

For such a wondrous Guest! 
'Twere better far to keep them so. 
Lest He might come before I know. 

And if He stayed for friendly speech 

As fell the light of day, 
How should I know to talk with Him, 

Or holy things to say. 
Unless my soul acquainted be 
With some of heaven's mystery? 
[64] 



The Searcher, 

I read of one who walked among the cots 
Of wounded men behind the battle-line. 

Seeking "the missing" with a patient quest — 
Plying his questions with a grace most 
fine. 

And in that Red Cross ward full many a clue 
Among the wounded of "the lost" he 
found; 
This man and that directing how to search 
For fallen comrades out on "No Man's 
Ground." 

I read, and thought; the vision changed, I 
saw 
Another warfare, waged at greater cost; 
Another Searcher, asking constantly — 
"What of thy soul, thy comrade, found? — 
or lost?" 

165] 



Achievement. 

His great desire was to paint most true 
His Master's portrait ; fairer far than he 
Had seen as yet portrayed, with majesty 

In every line and much of sweetness, too. 

And on the canvas stretched the artist drew 
The outlined Face, — no more, for sud- 
denly 
Canvas and brush and palette had to be 

Put by for needed work his hands must do. 

So wrought the years; still on the canvas 
stood 
Those outlined Features, never added 

touch ; 
His busy hands too busy were for such; 
Then feebleness laid low, and death ensued: 
And by his couch one said with tender grace, 
"I never looked on a more Christ-like face." 

[A tribute to my father, John R. Whitney.] 

[66] 



